


the elevator has probably seen worse

by iksnilits



Series: bro sex 'verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Vacation, bro sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6669766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iksnilits/pseuds/iksnilits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a continuation of Niall/Marco bro sex</p><p>basically a shoddy homage to <a href="http://ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com/post/124004385090/so-im-confused-who-is-cooper-im-intrigued">ymorton/ihavea1dbloghelp's OMC verse</a>, i lov her beyond reason</p>
            </blockquote>





	the elevator has probably seen worse

Niall wakes up the next morning to a couple texts from Harry. 

_How was your night you slag_

 _Come get breakfast with me Niall!_

Honestly. Harry’s one to talk. Niall’s walked in on him getting head - from men and women alike - more times than he cares to think about. 

_ill be down in ten_ , Niall taps out, feeling boneless and groggy as he sinks back into the crisp white sheets. 

He kind of wishes he hadn’t changed them after Marco left. 

He can feel Marco’s room number burning a hole straight through the Notes app in his phone and into the bedside table. Good thing he wrote it down last night, because his memory is shit and it seems like Marco left tonight up to him. 

If he wants to get - fucked, well, he’s going to have to be the one to go to Marco’s room. 

Which is fine. Niall is capable of making these decisions. 

His stomach’s already churning and he can feel his pulse picking up as he smashes his face into the sheets. Breakfast first. Then he can resume his internal freakout. The one that isn’t very valid at all because he already knows what he’s going to do once night rolls around. 

Harry’s already got a table, sitting with his legs folded up beneath him, munching on a pancake. 

“Thanks, mate,” Niall says, when he sees that Harry’s ordered for him. Breakfast food is a physical representation of all that is good and holy in the world. 

“Sure,” says Harry, mindlessly fiddling with the strings of his thin linen shirt. He always looks like such a tourist. A really rich tourist with a bizarre sense of fashion. “Good night?” he asks, smirking at Niall. 

Niall can feel the flush creeping up his neck. “Fine,” he shrugs, reaching for a sausage to jam in his mouth so he doesn’t have to talk. 

Harry just smirks again, and thankfully lets it go - Niall’s not sure what he’s done to escape Harry’s usual ruthless teasing, but he’s relieved. Harry has a talent for sleuthing out all their insecurities, their guilt and shame, and making offhand comments that cut straight to the bone. Niall supposes that he knows these things too, after all this time, but no one does it quite like Harry.

None of them have really been talking much on this trip. Liam’s always off with Louis somewhere, Harry’s being his usual enigmatic self, and Niall’s pretending to take it easy, look like he’s enjoying himself. 

And he is, kind of. Malibu is fine. He’s glad to be here with them. But he knows this is pretty much the end, their last hurrah. He's trying not to care.

Marco and his friends are all piled into a winding, curvy leather booth across the dining room. Niall’s stomach clenches hard, looking at the way Marco’s shirt pulls across his chest, clings to the curves of his shoulders as he reaches across the table. 

Marco looks up just then, catching Niall’s eyes. Niall goes red, a smile creeping onto his face before he realizes it, and Marco just grins back, slow and heavy-lidded - it’s _hungry,_ the way he looks at Niall. 

Niall shivers a little, embarrassingly, and thanks the gods that Harry was too involved with his muffin to notice. 

They walk back from breakfast toward the elevator, Niall pretending not to be aware of Marco’s group trailing them down the hallway. Harry keeps slowing down, and they’re going to get stuck in the elevators with them, and Niall’s a mess of nerves because Harry is going to see it all. 

They make it to the elevators just late enough for one of Marco’s friends - the big blond one - to shove his tanned arm between the doors. Seven rugby players pile in with Niall and Harry and it’s… cramped, to say the least. In the cloud of expensive cologne, Niall feels somewhat like a pinball among the men. 

Which is not to say that it’s an unpleasant experience. He gets jostled to the back as they all rearrange and wait for the doors to close. Marco’s leaning against the elevator wall, his usual handsome smirk on. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Marco says quietly, angling his body toward Niall. 

“Morning,” Niall says, and it comes out a little more nervously than he’d like. 

Marco just grins, wolflike, his teeth unnaturally white, and runs his fingertips down Niall’s back to rest at the top of his shorts. 

Harry’s at the opposite corner of the elevator, facing front, making small talk with the blond one. 

The doors close with a click. Marco trails his fingers lower, scrapes his fingers roughly down and back up the inside of Niall’s thigh. 

Niall’s not sure if he wants to laugh or moan. It’s taking all his willpower not to pop a boner in the middle of this elevator full of dudes. And his shorts are _very_ thin. That is not an option. 

Marco seems to love making his life difficult, because the elevator’s only at the second floor and he’s got one big hand up the side of Niall’s shorts, pressing into the crease of his thigh below his arse through his briefs. 

Third floor. Marco shifts his weight casually, reaching closer to Niall, pushing his hand farther up. Harry’s still facing front.

Fourth floor. He’s got two thick fingers right behind Niall’s balls, rubbing firm circles and then trailing back farther, one finger sinking between Niall’s arse cheeks and catching on his rim. Marco presses up harder, and Niall relaxes enough to feel the tip of Marco’s finger start to slip in, through his underwear - 

“Bye,” Niall chokes out, as the doors open on the fifth floor, and shoulders his way out in front of Harry. 

_This is insane,_ he thinks wildly, as he topples onto the couch in his suite, hunched over and so hard he can’t see straight, and proceeds to jack himself exactly twice before he shoots all over the front of his shirt, grinding his arse down into the couch like there’s anything there to rub against.

c===3

Later, Niall finds himself in the hot tub yet again, sweating in the sun but unwilling to move. It’s a kind of penance, he thinks, for letting himself get fingered in an elevator. If Harry’d turned around -

Niall’s stomach rolls and he chooses not to pursue that particular train of thought. 

Marco’s with his friends, splashing manfully in the pool across from him. Niall is beginning to feel like he’s stepped directly into hell. A muscular, well-lubed hell. Marco has the smallest possible pair of red swim trunks on, clinging tight to his thighs, the lacing up the front straining desperately. 

Niall really, really, cannot do this. He needs a beer or three, and he needs something to do with his hands other than jacking off furiously. Guitar. He’ll just - go do that. 

He heads for the locker room, grabbing a towel and slipping into one of the private stalls to rinse the chlorine off. He’s almost done when he hears the unmistakable purr of Italian, of men shouting. 

Don’t they have anything better to do? Somewhere else? Far away?

“Nah,” he hears Marco say, as he holds his breath under the stream of water. “I’ll be up in a minute. Forgot something.”

Niall runs a hand through his hair, heart tripping wildly, listening to the slap of sandals on the wet floor. 

“Still here, Niall?” he hears through the curtain. Niall pulls the curtain back. 

“Yeah,” he says, in what he hopes is a composed voice. “Join me?”

And this is an absolutely terrible idea, because it’s a fucking _public locker room_ , but it’s also kind of a great idea because this is also a public locker room for extremely rich people and the curtained showers are nicer than most private showers. There’s more than enough room for two.

Marco wastes no time in pushing Niall up against the cool tiles and mouthing at his neck. 

“Hi,” he mumbles, sucking on Niall’s collarbone. 

“Hi yourself,” Niall laughs, incredulous and half-hard already. Marco’s got him pinned against the wall, bracketed in by his arms and thighs and he’s rubbing his cock into the groove of Niall’s hip. 

Marco’s skin is hot from the sun and a little sweaty. Niall licks a stripe up the side of his neck, feeling bold, and Marco shivers. He tastes salty. Niall tries again, this time stopping to suck a little mark below Marco’s jaw, and Marco moans roughly, and his breath is warm on Niall’s neck. 

Niall wants a lot of things. Most of them have to do with getting Marco’s ridiculous swim trunks off. He tugs at the lacing, frustrated when the string slips out of his fingers, and Marco takes over, quickly undoing the knots. His cock bobs out, heavy and thick and tan, and Niall swallows reflexively. 

It looks - so fucking good. He’d thought about Marco fucking him earlier, what it would feel like to have his ass full and stretched slick, and then he thought about sucking Marco off, what it would feel like to have his mouth stuffed full of cock, and then he thought about what both at once might be like. Marco in his mouth, down his throat, and Marco in his ass, full of cock with no room for anything else, and he’d come so hard it hurt. 

So he really wants to suck Marco off right now, is what he’s saying. 

He realizes he’s been staring. Marco smiles, leads him over to the little bench in the corner of the shower. 

“Ever given head before, Niall?” Marco asks, standing in front of him, but it’s almost gentle. He’s got one hand on the side of Niall’s neck, thumb resting on Niall’s pulse point. Niall’s still in his shorts, dick hard and tenting the front of the fabric. 

“Nah,” Niall whispers, and swallows again. Marco’s really fucking hard, leaking a little at the tip. Niall wants to lick it off. He sways forward a little. 

“I’ll teach you,” Marco says, moving his hand up to rest in Niall’s hair, heavy and warm on his head. 

Niall feels his mouth drop open a little, lets his tongue poke out. 

“Fuck,” Marco groans. “I just want to fuck your mouth. Bet you could take it so well.”

“Do it,” Niall says breathlessly, palming at himself through his trunks. He leans forward a little, but Marco tightens his grip in his hair, pulling him back. 

“No,” says Marco. “We’ll get there. Gonna start slow. Lick your lips.”

Niall does, flushing hot with how quickly he obeyed. 

“I like it sloppy,” Marco says, trying to sound offhand, but Niall hears the tremor in his voice. “Get it wet.”

Niall can do that. He starts with a wet, slick kiss to the head - Marco’s dripping precome at this point, thin and salty. He makes sure to keep his teeth out of the way, tries to remember what girls have done for him and what feels good. 

Marco’s trying to muffle his moans into his arm. Niall takes that as encouragement, bobbing up and down a little faster, licking and trying to suck harder as he pulls up. 

“Yeah, fuck, just like that,” Marco says breathlessly. “So fucking good at this. Can you take a little more? Just a little, come on, you can take it.”

Niall tips his head back, spit trickling out of the corners of his mouth, and Marco pushes in a little deeper, pulling on Niall’s hair harder and shoving his hips forward. Niall can feel him hit the back of his throat, the thick slide of Marco’s cock as it pushes farther into his mouth - his lips are stretched tight and it feels so fucking good, to have his mouth stuffed full with Marco yanking his head back - 

He gags, hard, and his eyes water, and Marco pulls out enough to let him breathe. 

“Goddamn,” Marco groans, rubbing his thumb around the edges of Niall’s mouth, messy with spit and water from the shower. “You’re so fucking hot, you should see this. You’re gonna make me come so fast.”

 _Sloppy,_ Niall thinks, and he wants that feeling back, of being so full that he can’t think about anything else, and shoves his mouth back down on Marco’s cock, knows he probably looks disgusting with tears running down his cheeks and spit everywhere. Marco sounds like he’s getting close. Niall feels like he’s going to come in his pants. 

Marco’s so hard in his mouth, his thighs trembling, and he’s making these little thrusts like he’s trying very hard not to fuck Niall’s mouth where he’s got his head pinned to the wall. 

“Look at you,” Marco grits out. “Fuck, Niall - “

Niall squeezes his hand tighter where he’s got it wrapped around the base and sucks harder, shoves his head down farther, and Marco tenses, then comes with a shaking groan on Niall’s tongue and into the back of his throat. Niall’s trying to swallow around the head, but he’s choking around Marco’s come and he finally pulls back, come and spit dripping from his mouth, gives Marco’s cock one last lick and slumps back against the wall. 

“Holy fuck,” Marco says shakily. 

Niall is so, so hard. Marco’s come is still all over his face and sliding in his mouth, hot and bitter at the back of his throat, and he reaches into his trunks to get himself off, but Marco’s faster. 

Marco pulls him up and Niall lets himself be manhandled, lets Marco sit back on the bench and pull Niall into his lap, facing forward, Marco’s thick arms reaching around him to roll his balls in a big palm and stroke him with the other. He feels ridiculous, spread out on Marco’s lap, shaking with how badly he needs to come. 

Marco yanks his thighs wide open, reaches down below his balls to rub hard at his hole, and Niall could cry with how good it feels to be held open, Marco a hard line behind him. He thinks about doing this when Marco’s hard again, thinks about getting split open, getting fucked messily, getting filled up again, and Niall comes hard with the tip of Marco’s finger in his ass, shivering through it. 

“Jesus,” Marco says, a little breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” says Niall, letting his head drop back onto Marco’s shoulder. They sit like that, their legs under the spray of the shower, just for a minute.  
Niall tucks himself back into his trunks.

“Still on for tonight?” 

“Yes,” Marco says immediately, his eyes wide and unreadable. “Please.”

Niall grins, lopsided. “See ya then, mate,” he says, and ducks out of the stall.

c===3

Later, Niall can’t stop anxiously rubbing at his swollen, red lips. He’s gone over to Marco’s room. They’re watching some rugby game, drinking a little, each waiting for the appropriate moment to admit they’re just here to fuck each other.

He should have had Marco sign an NDA. Where the _fuck_ was his head at earlier, sucking some guy off in the public showers. Anyone could have walked in. 

“So you’re probably not - out, are you,” Marco says, and it’s less of a question than it is a statement to be confirmed. 

Niall swallows roughly, thinking of different things he could say. _I’m not gay. I date women. I’m whatever people think I am._

Take your pick. 

“No,” he says. His chest is tight. 

“Hey,” Marco says, still not moving from his hulkingly earnest perch on the edge of his mattress. “That’s okay. C’mere - “

Niall huffs out a breath, flopping belly-first onto the bed. Marco threads his fingers into the back of Niall’s hair. It feels nice. Marco’s nice. 

“I’m glad we met,” Marco says. “If you’re ever in Italy,” he starts, and Niall almost laughs. “You should find me,” Marco says, twisting his lips into a smirk, and that’s something Niall can handle. 

“I’ll track you down,” Niall says. “Come to a game, find you in - in your locker room,” he says, cringing at the way he sounds trying to flirt. 

Marco doesn’t think it was awkward, apparently, because his fingers tighten in Niall’s hair, and he clears his throat. 

“And?”

“Um,” Niall says intelligently, and arches his back, mashing his face into the sheets and pushing his hips into the air in the hopes that Marco will get sufficiently distracted and stop making him talk. 

To no one’s surprise, that works, and Niall feels the bounce of the bed as Marco flips around to straddle his back. 

Marco’s thighs are burningly hot, closed around the sides of Niall’s hips. Niall feels Marco’s hands come up around his neck, briefly, cupping the front of his throat, then sliding back around to his shoulders, starting in on one of the best massages Niall’s ever gotten. 

Niall’s sure he’s moaning a little too loudly, but Marco’s hands feel _excellent_ and the heavy weight of him as he sits back on Niall’s ass is satisfying in the best way. 

Marco’s moved down farther, rubbing circles with his thumbs into Niall’s lower back, brushing the top curve of his ass. His hands dip below Niall’s waistband, grabbing rougher now, and Niall feels the slow circles Marco’s making with his hips, grinding down between Niall’s cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Niall sighs out, boneless with how good he feels. He tilts his hips back and up, his stomach clenching when Marco lets out a helpless moan and slides two big hands under his hips to grind into him harder. 

And then Marco stops. 

“What next,” Marco says. Niall can hear the tease in his voice, and he tries to push his hips back again. 

“Don’t think so,” says Marco, moving back. “You gotta tell me.”

“Uh,” Niall says, grateful his face is buried in the bed. “Shorts off.”

“Good,” Marco says, easing Niall’s shorts off, not touching his semi. There’s some jostling as Marco takes his own off, and then it’s the incredible sensation of Marco’s hot skin sliding against Niall’s thighs, of getting pinned to the bed. 

“Ever done this?” Marco asks, sliding his palms up the back of Niall’s legs, stopping so his thumbs rest right in the crease where Niall’s ass meets his thighs. 

Niall just shakes his head. 

“I’ll make it good. You’re gonna feel so good.” Marco digs his fingers in, pulling Niall open, and Niall’s stomach lurches with the sudden realization of how real this is. He’s so close to getting fucked, so close to getting Marco’s dick inside him.  
“Marco,” he says, mindlessly, clenching down on nothing. His hands are fisted in the sheets, knuckles verging on white. 

“Gonna get you open,” Marco says. The bed wiggles as Marco rearranges, easing Niall’s legs wider and pinning them back with his knees. Marco’s got his fingers slicked up, and then it’s the familiar slide around his rim, a fingertip pushing inside, and Niall finally, finally feels the burn of getting split open, and it’s so good he can’t catch his breath. 

“Two, come on,” he says, panting into the sheets. Marco wraps his other hand around Niall’s hip and shoves him down harder, trapping Niall’s leaking dick between his stomach and the bed. He doesn’t say anything, just slides a second finger up next to the first and rests it against Niall’s rim. 

“You want it?” says Marco. “Take it, then.”

Niall is slowly realizing he’s going to have to work for this. 

He tries to relax, pushes out and rocks his hips back against Marco’s fingers, groaning as Marco eases his grip on Niall’s hip enough to let him slide back and take both fingers. He rolls his hips experimentally, and the resulting noise Marco makes sends shivers up his spine. Niall tries again, more decisively this time, and Marco shoves his fingers in harder, presses down, and grazes that spot that makes Niall’s head start to swim. 

A third finger fucking burns, but Niall’s lost in it, sliding back and forth on Marco’s fingers until it eases. He can feel Marco’s hand shaking a little, and shoves back harder, clenching as tight as he can, trying to make Marco snap. 

He just wants to get held down and fucked, and he wants Marco to do whatever he wants. 

“You’re unreal,” Marco groans, slipping his fingers out, and Niall makes an embarrassing noise at the empty feeling. But Marco’s pushing the length of his cock slick up against him, grinding against Niall’s puffy, open hole. 

“Please,” Niall hears himself saying, and Marco snubs the head of his cock up against Niall, hot and wet and it feels impossibly thick. 

"Look at you," Marco says. "You want this so bad. You're gagging for it - gonna beg me like you did earlier? Bet I could get my teammates to come over, fuck your mouth while I'm in your ass - fill you up, you'd like that, huh-"

Niall can't help it, he moans and shivers, licks his lips and clenches his ass around the tip of Marco's cock.

“Fuck, Niall,” Marco says, leaning forward into Niall’s neck. The scrape of his beard stubble sends shivers down Niall’s spine, at odds with the slick heat of Marco’s dick resting just outside his rim. 

Niall lets out what could be a sob, shoving his hips back as hard as he can, but Marco moves back with him - and then in one slow, agonizing slide, pushes into him, splitting him open on his cock.

Niall’s pretty sure he’s never going to catch his breath. Marco’s so fucking _big_ , pushing his way inside, biting at Niall’s shoulder, and Niall feels completely taken over, filled up. He tries to open his legs wider, he wants all of Marco inside him. 

Marco lets out a breath and gives Niall exactly two seconds before he pushes himself up, digs both hands into Niall’s ass, and fucks him exactly how Niall wanted - hips rolling, shoving him down into the mattress, splitting Niall open with every thrust. 

“You look so good,” Marco grits out. “So fucking good.”

Marco slaps his ass once, twice, and Niall feels the blood rush to the surface, hot and swollen, making every one of Marco’s thrusts seem that much more intense.

“‘M gonna come,” Marco says, voice tight, grinding slow and hard into Niall’s ass, each inch a shivering drag in and out. 

“Do it,” Niall moans, jacking his leaking dick into the bed. “Come on - fill me up, come on,” and he knows there’s a condom between them, but his stomach clenches hard at the thought of Marco coming hot in his ass, messily fucking him through it, how much of a slut that makes him.

“Jesus,” Marco groans, and stutters to a stop. Niall freezes, clenches harder around Marco’s pulsing dick, imagines him coming inside him, and comes all over the bed, shaking with the intensity of it. 

“Niall,” Marco says, rubbing Niall’s back as he pulls out. “You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

Niall rolls over, still a little shaky. Marco grins down at him, kissing his sweaty forehead, and they lie there for a minute.

“Shower?” Niall says, once he gets his voice to work again. 

Marco grins, all teeth. “Yes,” he says. 

“I don’t like that look,” Niall says. “There’s about zero chance of me getting hard again after that. I’m wiped, bro.”

“Hmm,” Marco says, and drags him into the shower.

c===3


End file.
